They Had It Comin'
by Brunette
Summary: Warden Lewis E. Lawes of Sing Sing Prison sent a letter stating that over 69 percent of the current men in prison, over 2300 of them, had been newboys.


_Author's Note: Okay, so the "Cellblock Tango" is obviously the coolest song in **Chicago**. Sexist? Hell yeah. So why not let the guys get a chance to recount a cellblock tango of their own? Heh, heh, that makes it ... what? The Jailhouse Rock? Oh, I crack myself up ..._

_Obviously, I don't own the Newsies. I don't own the "Cellblock Tango". Happy now?_

* * *

_pop_

_six_

_squish_

_uh-uh_

_cicero_

_lipshitz_

_pop. pop. pop. **pop** ..._

_Subject: Jonah L. Gleeton, alias: "Kid Blink". Age: 23. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mr. Samuel J. Gleeton (father)_

I still here it. Resoundin' in my head. It's like it repeats all the time, and I can't get my mind off of it. I never could. It used to make me sick, remembering the sound of my own jaw popping out of place. _Pop_. I still hear it. Sometimes, when I yawn or open my mouth too wide, there's a little clicking pop in my ears, making me think of the whole thing over again.

He was a real bastard, my pops. I mean, I know some guys who went all nutsy because they drank too much, but he never even liked the stuff. Pops just was the way he was. I don't know why. But he wasn't a drunk. I'm the drunk. I been a drunk since I was ten years old.

That's when it happened. _Pop_. Got pissed and soaked me somethin' awful. My jaw went outta place, and my eye went blind. That's how. All the nerves died, they said. Some fellas can take that kinda thing, and I took it for a long time. I took it all through my teen years until I left to live at the Lodging House--and I still saw him, ya know.

_Pop_. He drug me back home. Said I wasn't no fatherless runt, and I was doin' him dishonor. Said he had to take care 'a me. But he didn't. Even if he'da tried, I swear I still woulda done it. Every time I saw him, I heard it. _Pop._

I don't see how it matters--what happened. I don't even remember really what he said. But he's gone now, and I'm glad for it. Rotten son of a bitch deserved it.

_SoI took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots. Into his head._

_He had it comin'_

_He had it comin'_

_He only had himself to blame_

_If you'da been there_

_If you'da heard it_

_I betcha you would have done the same_

_**six.**_

_Subject: Francis Sullivan, alias: Jack Kelly, "Cowboy". Age: 25. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mrs. Ruth Haron-Limbardt._

Ruthy was a sweetheart. Nicest dame you'd ever meet. She was a little older than me, but that didn't bother me. I like older dames, sometimes. She said she was single--said she was an old maid. I told her she was too pretty to be an old maid, and I was damn right. She was.

_Six_. Single, she told me. _Six_. I can't get that number outta my head. Single my ass ... She was out one night, and this guy comes to the front door. Says he's lookin' for Ruthy. I say "why?" And he tells me, " 'Cause she's my wife, and we got six kids at home, and I can't do right by 'em, 'cause I ain't their mudder."

_Six._ Maybe, any other guy, would've just shoved her out the door and back to her husband and kids. I ain't that kinda guy. No kid deserves a mother like that, I say. They're better off fendin' for themselves, like I done.

So when she got home, I made us a couple 'a drinks--said we'd have a romantic evenin' tonight. And all the while, them six kids was runnin' through my head.

_You know some gals just can't hold their arsenic._

_She had it comin'_

_She had it comin'_

_She took the flower in its prime_

_And then she used it_

_And she abused it_

_It was a murder, but not a crime._

_**squish.**_

_Subject: Henry Collins, alias: "Mush". Age: 24. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mr. Layfyette S. Hardy, alias: "Skittery."_

If you think, for one lousy minute, that Ididn't want to kill Skittery, you're wrong. Sure, we lived in the same lodging house, we sold the same papes--spent time together and all. People always figure when you're with a certain group of people all the time, that you like them better'n anyone else, and that you all get along real well. And it's true, I did like Skittery. For a while.

It was after we was too old to be newsies anymore that it started. We got a job at the same factory. We was the only guys we knew. We did a lot 'a stuff together--took girls out, went for beers after work. Everyone always figgered, when we was younger, that it would be Blink and I bein' friends like that, but Blink got a job in another place, and we stopped bein' such good friends because we couldn't no more. Skittery and I kinda accidentally got work at the same place, and had no one else there.

But Skit always had this thing. Thought he could fight me. Thought he could take me on. And he'd always talk about it, and tell his dames about it, and always say he wanted to fight me someday. Finally, one day we did. And he did somethin' he shouldn't have. Skit beat me.

I was the toughest newsboy in Manhattan, ask anyone. I wasn't supposed to get beat by Skittery. And I wasn't gonna let him. We shared an apartment, right, to cut down on the cost. And we got in a fight, in our apartment. He didn't wanna fight--he was chicken. But I made him. He decided he'd end it cheap, so he come at me with a frying pan (only thing we knew how to do--fry meat).

_And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times._

_He had it comin'_

_He had it comin'_

_He only had himself to blame_

_If you'da been there_

_If you'da seen it_

_I betcha you would have done the same._

_**uh-uh.**_

_Subject: David M. Jacobs, alias: Dave, Davey, "The Mouth". Age: 25. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mrs. Josephine Jacobs (wife)_

I'm telling you, I don't know why I'm here. It's like they really don't care that I'm innocent. Just because I don't have some white collar job doesn't mean I'd lie about something like this. I have a right to a trial, don't I? The right defend myself! Aren't they going to hear me out? Didn't they hear me at all? _Not Guilty_.

I would never do anything to hurt Josephine. I love her. Even now that she's ... Oh, God. Somebody, please, help me. Hear me out. I did not kill my wife! Isn't anybody listening?! Doesn't anybody want to know my side of it?! _Uh-uh._

I came home from work. I wasn't late--I arrived exactly at the time I always did. I walked inside, threw my coat on the chair and headed over to the kitchen. I--I could hear the stew boiling and she was ... on the floor ... she was ... and the blood ... and ... Oh, God, help me!

I rang the police department. I told them the story. The next day they arrived with my arrest warrant. They said _I_ was the only suspect! Me! There are hundreds of crooked killers in New York, hundreds upon hundreds in their files--did they search there?! Did they even think to ...? I was so awestruck, I had nothing to say then, but I've got something to say now. I must have sounded like a babbling fool. The only thing I could say was ...

_Uh-uh. Not guilty._

_She had it comin'_

_She had it comin'_

_**cicero.**_

_Subject: Spot Conlon, alias: "Brooklyn". Age: 23. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mr. Nero Rassi, alias: "Cicero", and Ms. Mary Mikowski, alias: "Baby". _

Baby was my girl, right? We were doin' really good. Least I thought we were. _Cicero ..._ I can still hear her. In my head, I can hear her, and I can hear him.

I got this thing, 'right. No dame cheats on me. Not one. _Cicero ..._ She said it like it was a blessin'. Like it was the best she'd ever got. And you gotta understand--I'm the best there is. Baby and I had a good thing goin'--so did Nero and I, business-wise. He was my partner. We'd been workin' together for a year. Doin' what ain't none 'a your business.

Baby come up with Cicero as a code-name for Nero. He told her Nero was bad enough--why should he hafta go with a code twice as bad? He went with it, though, and Nero's one stubborn bastard. That's when I shoulda figgered it out.

But you gotta understand, Baby was one beautiful dame--any guy would wanna screw her. But Nero--he was an ugly little creep. Looked like a weasel, right? He had this sneer that just ... eh, racked my nerves somethin' awful. He'd been a pimp when he was younger, and he still acted like it. Sleazy, gross guy. No girl's supposed to want him. _Cicero ..._ She sure did.

I don't really know what happened, alright? All I knows is that I walked into _my_ apartment for an evenin' with _my_ girl, and I heard her moanin' like a whore. _Cicero ..._ What I did I don't really recall. I was shocked, alright? The two people I had the most trust in were ... well, you know!

_It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands I even they were dead._

_They had it comin'_

_They had it comin'_

_They had it comin' all along_

_I didn't do it_

_But if I done it_

_How could you tell me that I was wrong?_

_**lipshitz.**_

_Subject: Patrick Higgins, alias: "Racetrack Higgins", "Racetrack", "Race". Age: 22. Charges: Murder in the first degree of Mr. Herman R. Lipshitz._

Money is a very valuable thing. Growin' up on the streets, you learn to do what you gotta do to stay alive, and you learn that a buck is worth a hundred papes you sweated to sell. You also learn that you can get a buck a lot quicker when you take a shortcut. The trouble, is takin' the bite.

Odds don't take no genius to figure out. You just gotta have common sense, and you gotta see things the right way when they're being sold to you. What sounds better? Five ta one odds, or a 20 percent chance? They're the same thing, but just about anyone'll take five ta one odds 'a somethin' happening over a twenty percent chance.

Some people will take any set 'a odds, 'cause they don't know how valuable money is. Like this guy Lipshitz, right? More money than he could ever blow, so he puts it on the table. People like that are great, until they start cheatin'. Lipshitz. Sure as hell right: his lips was full a shit.

Maybe all those rich howty-towty WASPs can afford to cheat each other at a round 'a poker, but we blue collars can't handle it. We got enough going against us as it is. Any guy who sees that it's okay to cheat me at poker is blind. He obviously saw a lot 'a things outta focus.

_He saw himself as alive, and I saw him dead._

_They had it comin'_

_They had it comin'_

_They had it comin' all along_

_I didn't do it_

_But if I done it_

_How could you tell me that I was wrong?_

_pop. six. squish. uh-uh. cicero. lipshitz._

_pop. pop. pop. pop ..._


End file.
